


A Death and A Disappearance

by xpunkstylesx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpunkstylesx/pseuds/xpunkstylesx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosing Louis messed him up more than he had ever thought possible. </p>
<p>worldlwt's AU- Another year since Louis Tomlinson has passed and Harry Styles no longer exists</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Death and A Disappearance

"Their love was like the wind, never seen but always felt. They were the biggest opposers to PDA, but their quick glances and small smiles were enough to convince the world that they were meant to be together forever. And that summer they had finally hit their next milestone, one of the biggest to pass. Harry had finally gotten down on one knee and popped the question, sending Louis into a fit of tears, bubbling with an infectious excitement. The details for the wedding were being drawn up, and as the big date drew closer, neither of them could be seen without the other. It was as if the closer they got to their forever, the more they needed to solidify it and show the world how serious they were about it.

So it came as a shock when one morning Harry was found on the side of the road, hugging the broken body of his lover, blood staining his white cotton shirt and tears long dried on his cheeks. The locals had practically stumbled upon the scene, drawn over by the heart wrenching cries of the broken boy. There had been a car, one that had killed and scrammed, ashamed of confronting the pain it had caused.

Harry had been crouched on that floor for hours, having reached the scene shortly after the incident, responding to a horrifying call from Louis. He had clung to him and pled with him, promising him the world if he stayed, but his lover had already moved on, only staying behind to see him one last time and utter from broken lips, "I love you."

So the days went on, and Harry somehow managed to keep his heart thudding in his chest, though all he wanted to do was put an end to it. He managed to speak through a funeral service that was filled with nothing more than some persons that were eager for a good tragedy. He even managed to walk to the grave and fill it completely, not stopping when the rain moved in nor when the bite of the wind reached beneath his formal jacket. 

Months dragged on, and all Harry could feel himself doing was struggle. Fight with himself because he was still alive, because he hadn't been fast enough. Refuse any and all medical treatment he was offered when those around him saw him slowly decompose. And struggle to stay afloat when all the sh*t in his life was threatening to drown him. 

But two years had passed, and the tragedy was like a sad memory of a past love for many people. It was the kind of tale parents told their children and used as an example of why love was heartbreaking, why it was so hard to do it well. And the question that always affronted these people was one, "Where did Harry end up?"

_Search: Harry Styles_

_Not Available_

Harry Styles, a sudden alias, had completely disappeared. He was no longer anything but a myth, a legend that stood strong in people's minds but left no evidence to prove it."

"Love will do that to you." I was snapped out of my story when a man in the back interrupted, drawing all glances towards himself. I squinted, trying to look into the darkness that enveloped the back of the bar, but could make out nothing. I waited for him to elaborate, to explain who he was or why he had chosen to interrupt my story then, but no other noise came from there, so I continued.

"And that is the myth that haunts my dreams every night, the one that makes me wonder if the man asleep next to me would ever understand. Harry Styles was my neighbor, my best friend, and yet all I have left of him is a paper plane necklace he left on his back porch the last night he lived next to me. He is a nobody, a man who never existed, erased from all creation except for the space he continues to occupy in my thoughts to this day."

I slipped off the counter, nodding my head at the applauses they made for my story. It had been my 42nd bar in 43 days, and yet nothing but the empty echo of enthusiastic clapping. I had started my search hoping to find something, anything, to link me back to Harry, but nothing. Somehow, he had taken himself completely off the grid and no one I encountered could tell me they even remembered the story I told. A story that had made headlines news somehow buried behind layers of newer tragedies, ones that grew more violent and terrifying every day. 

I shouldered my way past the crowd, shoving the door open and breathing in the fresh air, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. I pulled out my box of cigarettes, eager to take the edge of, when a deep voice distracted me.

"Those aren't doing much good to your health." A tall man was leaning on the outside of the bar, watching me with dark brown eyes. He had a buzz cut, and a strikingly sharp jaw line, and would've been scary except for the fact that he exuded some kind of warmth, something eerily familiar that stopped me from walking away. 

I nodded, grinning wickedly before lighting one, inhaling the toxic fumes before letting out a puff, the tremors in my hands already dying down, "We're all going to die, it's just about which poison you choose."

He smiled ruefully, pushing off the wall and walking over to me, taking the one I offered and inhaling deeply once I lit it. We didn't speak, staring straight ahead into the open field, a peaceful silence passing over us. Finishing it, I stubbed it out, finally feeling steady enough to continue the conversation.

"So were you the one that interjected?" I asked, turning to him in order to read his emotions. His mask revealed nothing if not a strange calm, as though he had expected me to ask.

"Yeah, it was me. Just thought it was appropriate for your highly depressing story," Mystery man replied, before continuing, "What about the necklace? You bring it everywhere?"

I froze, taken aback by the interest. No one ever asked anything beyond more gory details, as though any thoughts of love were banned from their mind. I struggled to get it out, my jacket pockets suddenly too littered with useless crap that just got in the way. My fingers finally fell on a cold chain and I grasped it, yanking it out with sudden excitement. I showed it to the man, asking, "Have you ever seen it before?"

He smiled sadly, and I knew I had a clue, finally, after so long, "Yes, I remember the newspaper clipping. The guy looked so sad and broken, and he was definitely wearing this chain."

"You remember?" I was shocked, never before having found someone who actually remembered. He nodded slowly, as though the memories were all flooding back to him. I bit my tongue before more excited questions came out, seeing if he would volunteer anything else.

He opened his mouth a couple times, as though choosing his words very carefully, when he finally said, "It's an honorable thing, that which you're doing. But I don't think he wants to be found. I think he left because it was too much, and I'm sure it must've been. I don't mean any harm, but I do believe it's best if you gave up."

I stared, shocked once more at his affirmation. Of course that thought had flitted through my mind, but I had never succumbed to it, too scared it would be the truth. But this man had laid it out for me, plain as day, and it suddenly hit home. Harry Styles had disappeared because he no longer wanted to exist, and that did not mean he wanted to be found. A million thoughts raced through my mind but I could only grasp one:  _He didn't want to be found._

"I'm sorry, but I best be off. Good luck with everything, and make sure you keep me in your thoughts." The man said, walking away before I registered what he said, still mulling over the realization about Harry. A gust of wind blew once more, and I shivered, grabbing my keys and deciding to head home, knowing in my heart that was what he wanted.

As I pulled out of the small lot by the bar, lights from a black Range Rover stopped me short. I watched them go into the infinite dark of the fields on my right, and I finally remembered the man's last words, "...keep me in your thoughts."

Me.  _Me._

I sat, dumbfounded by the sudden realization. The familiarity I had felt around him was no incident, and the sense of recognition I felt when I heard his voice was no mistake. I had not found my neighbor; he had found me. The bit about him not wanting to be found; that wasn't a thought flitting through his mind, it was a well rehearsed line, one that must've been repeated hundreds of times before it could come out without weird pauses. 

My hands shook again, but this time I revved the engine, ignoring the cigarettes that lay on the passenger seat, turning my lights to the left, ready to head back home, safe in the knowledge that love takes with it all that it creates. 


End file.
